


Today I’m Not Myself

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, re-post from 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: Maybe he’s going to leave her anyway. Maybe he won’t. And maybe it even was the beginning of something new.





	Today I’m Not Myself

**Author's Note:**

> And a BIG special thank you goes to the wonderful clairebare for beta reading!

**Today I’m Not Myself**

**.**

**.**

She’s sitting in her living room, staring off into the distance. Unable to move.  _(Barely breathing)._

Her phone on the floor keeps buzzing, the caller ID flashing over the screen again and again. She knows she should take the call this time. She’s far too late for work now. And she’s sure they’re getting more worried with every call she doesn’t take.  _(But her hands just won’t pick up the damn phone)._

She’s listening to the ticking of the clock somewhere behind her, listening to the seconds passing by. And she’s almost sure she can hear someone laughing.  _(How did she think this would end)?_

She tries to remember why she’s sitting on her floor wearing nothing more than her sleeping shirt, but she can’t.  _(How did she get there)? (Shouldn’t she be somewhere else)?_

There are tears blurring her vision, begging for release. But she isn’t ready to let them fall.  _(Maybe she never will)._

Her phone is buzzing again, but she keeps staring into the distance. And it feels like she’s already getting a look into her future.  _(Her future without him)._

Because that’s what’s waiting for her.  _(Isn’t it)?_

She tries to remember, but the only thing that’s coming to her mind is his face. His voice, calling her name.

It takes her a while to realize there’s someone knocking at her door, calling her name.  _(It’s him)._ And she wants to get up, wants to open the door.  _(But she’s not sure how to get up)._

He’s begging now. Begging her to open the door. Worried, probably assuming the worst. _(Whatever that could be)._

She wants to tell him that she’s fine, that he can go back to whatever he was doing.

But the truth is she needs him to stay, even when she knows he won’t, he can’t. And it’s not like he promised her he would.  _(But she just can’t bear the thought of living without him)._

She’s not sure how he gets the door open, she’s sure she locked it twice, but suddenly he’s standing in front of her. Searching for a pulse on her wrist, saying her name.

He’s looking worried, fear written all over his face. And she’s wondering what happened.  _(What did she miss)?_

He’s saying her name again, cupping her face gently between his hands. Trying to get her to look him in the eye.

She’s blinking once, twice. Tears spilling over and falling freely down her cheeks. She’s not sure where she is, not sure how she got there and what the hell is  _he_  doing in her apartment?

She’s shaking now, sobs racking her body and making her gasp for air. She’s grabbing his jacket in panic, holding on to it almost frantically.  _(Trying her best to stop herself from hyperventilating)._

What’s happening to her? Why is she crying?

He takes her hands into his own, telling her to listen to the rain. And she’s blinking again, wondering what he’s talking about until she notices his slightly wet hair.

She turns around, trying to get a look at her window. And there it is.  _(Raindrops streaming down the window pane)._

How could she miss that?

He keeps talking to her, surprisingly calming her breathing and suddenly it’s getting hard to keep her eyes open. She keeps listening to his voice, mixing with the soft drumming of the rain, sounding like a gloomy lullaby. _(Lulling her to sleep)._

.

When she wakes up, it’s dark outside. Rain is drumming against her window sill and she’s surprised to find herself on the floor, gently embraced in her Consultants arms. But then everything just comes rushing back to her.

She remembers lying awake in bed almost all night long, afraid to close her eyes. And she remembers those sleeping pills she took around four and then a call around seven. Her helpless attempt to get herself dressed and make herself a cup of coffee to get to that crime scene she was supposed to. And she remembers how she gave up sometime later and ended up on her living room floor instead.

Everything just makes sense now. _(But she should probably stop taking those pills)._

She tries to get up almost immediately, out of his arms and onto her own feet.  _(Now that she’s able to control herself again)._

But she ends up in an akward position, face to face with  _him._   _(His eyes locked with hers)._ Both of them fully awake now.

She wants to make some fun about her breakdown earlier, trying to avoid the fact that she’s about to lose her mind. Trying to avoid the fact that she is in love with him.  _(And that there’s no way she’s going to get through this)._

But before she even has the time to come up with something, he bends forward to kiss her. And all she can muster is kissing him back.  _(A kiss she waited almost ten years for)._

It starts almost innocently, soft and tender. Getting more heated by the second. And she knows she should stop him, should remind him of all the reasons why they shouldn’t do this. But instead she’s moving closer.

She’s not sure what it means or what it should mean. Maybe he’s just telling her goodbye. Maybe it means nothing.

His hand on her hip is guiding her gently, before he’s pulling her close against his chest, wrapping her legs around his back and pushing her back down on the floor.  _(His lips never leaving hers)._

Maybe he’s going to leave her anyway. Maybe he won’t.  _(And maybe it even was the beginning of something new)._

She stops thinking the second he bends down to tell her the words she has been waiting almost ten years to hear.

**.**

**.**


End file.
